


Remind Me Where I Belong

by keeptheliealive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Office, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:21:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeptheliealive/pseuds/keeptheliealive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith is the head-honcho at Sandover. He specializes in doing nothing while everyone under him does something, and that's just how he likes it. But when an attractive new investor decides to get a hand in his company, Dean realizes he's going to have to put him in his place if their working relationship is going to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remind Me Where I Belong

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first time posting here, and it's just something I wanted to get out there. I only have one chapter written so far, but an outline detailing several more. Feedback and input are needed if it's going to go anywhere. so let me know if you like it! ♥ (ps, I'm holding back on a rating for now, depending on whether I actually continue this or not. If so, expect it to get "Explicit" thrown on there for language and much desk-banging)

A stressful day in the office was nothing new for Dean Smith. In fact, he enjoyed the added pressure, the extra push for productivity that came with daily server crashes and trying to avoid the catty receptionists that obviously wanted to lick more than the pens poised seductively in their mouths. 

It was a usual workday at Sandover, that is to say, boring and unremarkable. Dean was working on something entirely unimportant – something he’d never distinguish from any other day’s work – when Greta, the New Jersey import-receptionist who worked the main lobby tapped her acrylic talons on his door frame urgently.

“Uh, yeah, Mister Smith?” she oozed, her penciled in eyebrows raising in surprise as if to downplay the fact that she was ohhh so obviously eyefucking him.

“What is it, Miss Hardy?” Dean responded, his eyes still glued to his laptop. He could smell her knockoff Chanel No. Whatever from across the room, which was actually painfully large. From his peripheral vision, Dean caught Greta slinking towards his desk, only stopping a foot or so short.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mister Smith, but we’ve got a potential investor waiting for you down in the main lobby?” Greta smiled, baring a set of viciously overwhitened incisors. Dean grimaced as he looked up to meet her gaze, still some semblance of eyefucking, and sighed, pushing his chair away from his desk.

“I’ll go meet him myself, thanks Greta,” he had to hiss, pulling away from her strong presence in favor of speed walking down the hallway and into the elevator. He could hear Greta’s heels clicking violently on the tile as she tried to catch up with him, but the doors shut just as she rounded the corner. 

Dean let out a huge sigh as his elevator car made its descent. It wasn’t every day Sandover got dealt potential investors. All Dean could do was hope Greta had offered him some refreshments and one of the luxe leather seats in the lounge, and pray that she hadn’t preyed upon him with her eyes like she liked to do with Dean. 

Who says it’s a him? a little voice in the back of Dean’s head reminded him. He tended to think of it as his “PC-voice”. He was forever in debt to that little sliver of conscience for getting him out of situations where if his comment had leaned just slightly more that way he could’ve gotten himself into a heap of trouble. Dean chuckled to himself as he stepped through the doors and onto the marble of the lobby. 

It took a few sweeps of scanning the place, but eventually Dean caught the eye of a younger man, wearing a three-piece and a look that screamed “get me out of here”. He made his way to him quickly, with the thought to put him out of his misery faster. But when Dean approached the man the look on his face morphed from “get me out of here” to “if I don’t die right now I will die later and it will be by my hand”. 

Dean thought it was cute in a way, the deer-in-headlights look he was getting. It was obvious the kid was new at this.

“Hey there!” Dean greeted the man, extending a friendly hand. The other man shrank into himself and took it, gave it a weak squeeze and dropped it, before muttering an incredibly forced “hello”. Huh, Dean thought, they sent a newbie to deal with me, really? Dean didn’t let his face betray him; he just kept his professional façade as well as he could and trudged on.

“So I’m assuming you’re a potential investor?” Dean smiled hopefully. The man nodded, his face hardening into something that more closely resembled businessman than startled kookaburra. “Great.” Dean said a little more flatly than he probably should have. He turned around and headed back toward the elevator doors, just hoping, praying that his shy little investor was following. 

Dean made it to the elevator doors, pressed the up arrow, and turned around to find a set of electric blue eyes drilling holes into his head. The investor didn’t look away, didn’t step back as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate, just stood there all up in Dean’s personal space, his gaze still boring straight through Dean. Dean swallowed twice, avoiding making eye-contact, and stood facing the doors. Finally, they slid open and Dean slipped in, followed shortly by the investor. 

Dean pressed the number for his floor and basked in the silence that was probably only awkward for himself. When they slid past floors three and four, the other man cleared his throat, and somewhere close to seven he spoke up.

“My name’s Allen,” he said, giving Dean a significant look and smiling, “Castiel Allen”.

Dean looked over his shoulder to return the formality but was once again struck by the electric blue eyes studying him. He looked away quickly, brushing off the fact that they made him tingle in all the wrong places, and stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors slid open far enough. He led the way to his office, trying increasingly hard to keep his mind strictly on business. But those eyes. 

Dean groaned inwardly to himself, praying his dick would stay somewhere between soft and half-hard for the remainder of the meeting. He found as soon as he shut the door to his private office and took a seat, the look he was getting in the elevator was replaced with something different, something more intense. 

Dean felt his cock twitch feebly in his khaki’s and was thankful that there was a desk between him and… Castiel, was it? After a few moments of silence, the boy Dean once thought to be a shy little newbie gave a hearty smirk and spoke up.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Castiel remarked, crossing his legs and staring straight into Dean’s soul.

It was going to be a particularly stressful day at the office.


End file.
